Short Stories
by Lex Sterling
Summary: I decided to move all my one-shots under one story. This was previously called just "Calling You", but now has the rest of my one-shots written and to be written. These are all Nellis and often contain sexual themes, violence and swearing.
1. Calling You

_There's something that I can't quite explain...  
>I'm so in love with you,<br>you'll never take that away._

In an instant he had realized how insignificant he was. It was as he stood there on top of that evac center, the smell of the burning hotel choking his senses, the heat from the Georgian sun melting his skin into sweat, that he realized no one cared. The helicopter had lifted into the sky only seconds as he and three others came tumbling out of the doorway, breathless and still hopeful. It didn't even hesitate as it turned west and disappeared into the horizon.

They had seen them and he knew it. Maybe the pilot had thought they were Infected... Maybe he had had orders. Or maybe he just didn't care. Whatever the case, they had left them. Without even a second thought.

Nick had looked to his left and to his right. There were four of them on that rooftop, including himself. Four of them left to fend on their own. Four people too insignificant to be saved. It had hit him hard—and he had tried to deny it. The pilot hadn't seen them—okay, he probably had. There would be more helicopters—no, this was last call. He didn't need a fucking helicopter. He could con his way to the next evac center.

But it was approximately five minutes later that he realized that alone he really was insignificant. Together, they were not. And so he had swallowed his pride—but not his obnoxiously sarcastic attitude—and he had followed them. Not out of any real sense of camaraderie or anything, but more out of instinctual need to just survive. As long as they could hold a gun, or an axe, or do something useful... then he would stick with them.

Even if he hated them.

And especially Ellis. The way his words were drawn out in that southern twang, his optimistic view about god damn everything, his constant chatter and, god, that goofy ass grin that was a permanent resident on his dumbass face. He was everything Nick was not. And he hated him for it. And so his words stayed harsh, his actions cold, his disgust evident. And still, the kid smiled.

And it was very soon after they met, that he realized he envied Ellis. And it terrified him.

_And if I said a hundred times before...  
>expect a thousand more.<br>You never take that away_

And although he kept his words harsh, a few playful punches here and there, a roll of the eyes, a snort of disdain during each stupid long-winded story... The kid grew on him. And quickly. It may have been because the kid had gotten them out of Savannah and on the road towards the only evacuation center left the south... or simply because Ellis just kept on smiling back.

And eventually, he realized he was falling for that smile... and that smile was unwavering. Even in the face of his cold-heartedness.

And then their hands touched one night sitting in a cramped safe room. It was dark, so it could have easily been written off as a mistake. But it wasn't that dark. Not dark enough for Nick to not notice that flush of crimson across the southern's cheeks or notice that inaudible and embarrassed mumble of 'sorry.'

He had taken that hand, squeezed it. That touch had been a confirmation of sort... and invitation, maybe. Whatever it was, it had been the start of something.

Every time he caught his eyes wandering, he would slap himself mentally. Each time it must've been noticeable, because it seemed Ellis would look at him, a half-smile. That little knowing bastard grin. Sometimes Nick didn't know if he wanted to knock that crooked smile clean off his face or capture those lips with his own and smother them into submission. Some days it was hard to think. Some days he would just simply smile that tired smile back, whispers of _I love you_ held hostage behind clenched teeth.

Even though he knew it, even though he knew Ellis knew it, it was still too hard to choke out those words. Almost as if... when he said them, the end would be near. God would strike them from above, or more likely, a Hunter, like a flying trapeze artist from above. It would descend on one of them—arms reaching, hands twisted greedily with savage rage. Bent on destroying them. Ending whatever they had.

If he had said it. If he had said "I love you" then the end was near. Because where there was hope, there was death. When lovers ran hand in hand through the diseased streets, they would fall. Because loving someone was only a hindrance. Loving someone was a handicap. Loving someone made you vulnerable. Love didn't make the Infected stop. Love only clouded your judgement. Like it was a disease itself, destroying you from the inside out.

__Well expect me to be  
>calling you to see<br>if you're ok when I'm not around.  
>Asking if you love me:<br>I love the way you make it sound.  
>Calling you to see,<br>do I try too hard to make you smile?  
>to make us smile?<em>  
><em>

He remembered the first time he did say it though. It wasn't even after all the zombie bullshit was done like how he had promised himself he would wait for. But it was in a moment of peace. Sitting there, side by side, fingers intertwined almost secretly, Ellis' head on his shoulder. It was warm, dark... muggy. The sound of life one would have thought would be in a swamp was replaced with a deathly silence, except for the occasional helpless moan of an Infected outside. Breathing felt thick, hot, uncomfortable, but still... they had found a moment a peace. A moment to just sit there, holding onto each other.

Before he had realized it, he had said it. "You know I love you, right?" Ellis had shifted, head lifting, those sleepy blue eyes blinking from under that worn out hat. He had grinned, that obnoxious, but so god damn beautiful grin.

"Sure, Nick. I think I've always known."

He hadn't asked if Ellis had loved him back. He knew he did. He didn't need to ask, and hearing it probably would have killed him a little. The young mechanic had shifted his legs up, both arms wrapping around one of Nick's and his head had rested against the conman's shoulder. Nick had held him—really, for the first time then. And realizing that this moment of peace was worth fighting for. Worth all the bruises.. Worth the scratches, bites and headaches. Worth the broken and dislocated fingers. Simply worth fighting for. If he got to hold Ellis again and again and again, he would just keep fighting.

__Well, I will keep calling you to see,  
>if you're sleeping are you dreaming and<br>if you're dreaming, are you dreaming of me?  
>I can't believe<br>you actually picked...me_  
><em>

"Ever kissed in the rain, Nick?" Ellis had asked. Nick had looked at him, a face of miserable annoyance as the rain had soaked him through and through. He felt like the weight of the world was behind that rain. And yet, there Ellis was grinning like a fool.

"What?" he had snapped back.

"Kissed in the rain?" Ellis had sounded hopeful. Bashful, almost. He half shrugged, adjusted his hat and then brushed the rain from his eyes. The mechanic shoved the embarassing question aside and pretended like nothing had happened.

Nick hadn't known what to say. What to really think. Was it a proposition? He supposed he should have considered the fact that he and Ellis' relationship hadn't gone past innocent hand-holding. They hadn't sealed their feelings with a kiss. Was that what he was getting at?

He had grabbed the mechanic by the wrist then, jerked him over and with his free hand hand knocked that stupid hat right off his head. Ellis looked startled at first, like he wanted to retrieve his prized hat from the ground, but he quickly lost interest in it. Fingers twisted in the hicks hair as Nick had forced him into a kiss. Well, forced probably wasn't the right word. More like, guided him... strongly. Ellis had froze at first, but the moment his initial shock had waned he was groping and pawing at the conman to get closer.

Nick would always remember the smell of rain, the softness of those curls, the way their tongues glided like velvet across each other, those hands touching him so desperately... but most of all, he'd remember how right it felt. And how he never wanted it to end.

__I thought that the world had lost its sway  
>then I fell in love with you<br>and you took that away.  
>You take away the old,<br>show me the new,  
>and I feel like I can fly<br>when I stand next to you._  
><em>

When everything was over the four simply sat there. Sweat and blood sucking their clothing tight to their skin, their breaths leaving them in heavy and haggard gasps... To their left and right stood armed military men. Their faces showed no kindness, but their eyes betrayed them. They looked sad. Like they were sorry for them.

And why shouldn't they be? The four had witnessed the worst disease to ever spread across human kind. They had slaughtered creatures with human faces and ghostly pasts not always unrecognizable. A man in a suit—maybe a lawyer, or like Nick, simply a conman. A woman in a police uniform, a man in construction. Their past lives weren't unrecognizable, nor was the decaying flesh around their faces that still looked human. But they had killed them anyways. At the time... It may have seemed right. But now... was it worth it? Was it right?

It may have been then, sitting in that helicopter, staring across the way at each other that Nick realized he had seen more than he would have cared to ever admit. That Ellis had lost more than he would ever know. He started out so damn innocent... So damn excited about this whole goddamn thing. But it seemed each day just seemed to change him a little more. He seemed to smile a little less.

But he smiled at him then. The mechanic caught him staring and he smiled—a half smile. There was a gentleness behind his eyes, but those eyes were so very haunted. Nick wanted to reach out for Ellis' hands, but his limbs were too bruised and torn that even the slight twitch of the muscles underneath surrendered all his thoughts. He would have closed his eyes had he not been afraid that this was all a dream. So he just smiled back, looking forward to so many more days ahead when that smile would bring him healing.

__I only want to see  
>if you're ok when I'm not around.<br>Asking if you love me,  
>I love the way you make it sound.<br>Calling you to see...  
>do I try too hard to make you smile?<br>To make us smile?_  
><em>

It had been confusing... when they had reached the evac center. There was one on land and others on the sea for when they 'passed' inspection. But here on land... they were tested. Like animals, really. Like feral animals. He had never seen people move so fearfully and cautiously around other people. And he had been to St. Louis. The bad side.

After being separated, they had taken his blood, a hair sample, a urine sample, scrapped under his fingernails and washed him with something that burned for hours after. Two days later a man came into his holding cell. He hadn't seen or heard anyone since they had put him in there. The light from outside burned his irises, but he still blinked up at the man. Like an innocent child, waiting to be told everything would be all right.

"You are a Carrier. I'm sorry."

Sorry? Sorry didn't really feel right. You say sorry when you run into someone in the streets, or have to cancel a date. You don't say sorry to someone with a death sentence.

He didn't want to ask, but he still did. Just because he had to know. "The others I was with?"

"Immune."

He wanted to smile, or cry, or laugh... but he only nodded.

Was it even true? Were they really immune? Was Ellis really immune? He figured he'd have to believe it. At least then when the put the needle in his arm, he would die knowing that at least someone he cared about made it out of it alive. And although his memories with the mechanic had been short... the memories had been worth fighting for. Even if it had to end like this.

__I will keep calling you to see  
>If you're sleeping are you dreaming and<br>if you're dreaming are you dreaming of me?__

And far away on a vessel at sea, Ellis waited for the ghost of a man that would only ever visit him in his dreams.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** The song is "Calling You" by Blue October. I've been writing this on and off for a couple weeks now.. finally just sat down and finished it... It seems sorta distorted.. but the first few parts I wrote to give the feeling that he was thinking back to everything... kinda like those two days gave him some time to himself and to think... And remember... before anyone who rages that killing a carrier is extreme, realize that the military had/has been killing non-infected and/or carriers along with infected. No, I don't think it's the right solution, but it's what worked for this short piece... so... if you have a problem with it... I don't wanna hear it. =D


	2. Last Man on Earth

He was alone now. Walking with a limp as blood spread from an opened wound in his right calf. It was warm, sticky. Not unlike the warmth he felt down the side of his face and down his mangled arms. If he licked his lips he would have tasted that pain too—but he didn't dare. He didn't dare taste that coppery red that could have very easily belonged to someone else.

Oh, and how that white suit had played so well as an empty canvas. Yes, yes, the white made a marvelous blank and empty canvas. So paint me, my friends. Paint me! Paint me! PAINT ME!

Oh and alone, alone… that's where he was. What he was, what had become of him…

Rochelle had died first. In the darkness of Whispering Oaks a flash of fleshy tongue had come from the blackness, hooked around her ankles and knocked her onto her face. She had screamed and screamed, clawing and grasping at the rooftop as she was drug away. And how they had tried to save her, throwing down their weapons, trying to spring after her, trying to grab hold of her desperately clawing hands—but they had failed.

A Boomer had come out of nowhere—like the fucking Infected had planned it—vomiting its putrid nastiness all over them, blinding them. In the chaos the sound of her screams had been impossible to follow. They had scrambled for their guns, shoving and pushing, tearing and slicing through Infected as they tore mercilessly into them. And when they had finally cleared their vision—finally killed off the rest of those slobbering Infected—their eyes had frantically searched for the woman.

It was Nick who spotted her first. He had risen one hand, pointing dejectedly across the expanse of the two buildings side by side. She hung upside down from the Smoker's tongue, while below her dozens of Infected had stripped her flesh, making her entrails spill down her in fleshly coils… The blood had been immense. Like a cascade of water… only red.

They had moved on without her—but only after Ellis had fired into those feasting Infected, just shot into them, mowing them down as screams of rage left him. Just screaming, screaming, screaming… helplessly screaming. Nick remembered how he had rested his hand against the top of Ellis' gun—how those bursts of bullets had ceased, how Ellis' horrified eyes had met him, how the kid's face had been so twisted with torment. And all Nick had done was lower the guns barrel to the ground as if to say; "That's it kid, it's over." His lingering touch on the man's shoulder had been his only way of saying he was sorry… and that he understood how painful it was—but there was nothing more any of them could do. And so they had moved on.

Coach had been next. His death hadn't been much easier to bare—maybe even worse. In the heavy rains and thunder his voice hadn't even been heard—at least not until it was too late. They had been stumbling forward, shooting through Infected, knocking them back and trying so desperately to return with that god damned diesel that now occupied their minds to the point of obsession. The obsession, that need to return to Virgil had blinded them.

And God, the rain. The thunder. The lightening. It had dulled their senses—or maybe heightened them. It was hard to tell. It wasn't until Ellis had glanced back and by chance—by absolute chance—did his eyes catch that gray flesh, those sharpened claws. It was because a strike of lightening had lit up everything wet with a glint of white, sent everything metal shinning. It had drawn his eyes to that glistening gray, to that almost metallic flesh.

And underneath those clawed hands, those screams that they suddenly realized they were hearing—was Coach. And how she just tore into him; ripping away chunks of flesh and complete limbs. How blood had gushed upwards in a fountain, clashing against the rain from above. How it had pooled around him in crimson, almost like the ocean at dawn. And how he had screamed—at least until her nails had caught under his jaw—ripped open his chin—then down came her other hand, slicing his throat open. A gurgle must have left him—and his eyes must have been so terrified. It was when he had stopped struggling, stopped his useless flails that her mouth had descended on him with vile teeth leading. She had ripped into him, devoured him in strips of flesh.

Nick had grabbed Ellis' arm, just dragged him, dragged that white-faced, hollow-eyed man behind him. Ellis had followed him in a daze, tripping over his feet, reaching out with his free hand blindly—like he couldn't see a damn thing. Like the horrors had blinded him.

Nick had tried to tell Ellis that everything would be okay. He had tried to slap some sense into him and he had even held him when that had failed, but still the man—no, that kid, had just stared with eyes lost of sanity. He had sat there, shaking, trembling, rocking himself with a gun pressed into his chest, blubbering and weeping.

_You're going to be okay, Ellis. You're going to be okay. We're going to get out of this._ He had said the same thing to the kid as he laid broken and bleeding in his arms—his mouth working, hands touching at the awful hole in his stomach that left his intestines spilling away like ribbons. His eyes had been terrified, so god damn terrified. And when he had looked up—when his eyes had met Nick's, the kid had tried to speak—but whatever he wanted to say simply came out in a spatter of blood that painted his lips red. Eyes still opened, still locked with his, Ellis had died. And all the while Nick had told him everything would be okay. He continued to lie to him for several more minutes afterwards. He had just knelt there, just reassuring that lifeless body in his arms over and over that everything was going to be okay.

In the distance, in the fucking horizon, so fucking close he could see the bridge. That god damn slice of Heaven in this godforsaken hell hole. He could see it. He could _fucking_ see it. But he knew his feet would never touch that bridge. He would never be safe. He would never find sanctuary. Never find peace.

The ground shook, sending him off his badly wounded legs and onto his scraped knees. His eyes lifted and he could see that monstrous Infected coming at him, throwing cars across the street as though they were cardboard cut outs. It thundered after him, bellowing at him with a growl that left his lungs quivering.

But then he shifted back onto his knees, arms outstretched, smiling wide, laughter on his lips. His gun fell from his bruised fingers to clatter useless beside him. He laughed still as the Tank came before him, both arms lifted in a fist right over his grinning face.

Eyes shinning with tears, blood wet on his face he smiled—that's right, that's right, paint me red. Paint me that lovely fucking red. Make me fucking beautiful.

Those massive fists came down, crushing into his head, snapping his neck in two and ending him. His lifeless body crumpled to the dirty ground and the Tank's arms lifted again, pummeling him over and over, almost as if it enjoyed the feel of that body breaking under its will. Every bone broke and snapped under those crushing fists, splitting open his flesh and pooling blood.

What was left of that white canvas became red.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Thought of this while playing Last Man on Earth… I was doing so god damn good until this Jockey jumped on me around a corner and lead me to trigger a Tank—but the Tank didn't reach me until I fell, got up in black and white and then had about 2 seconds to reorientate myself before it was on me. I think I made it about 20 feet before it smacked me across the level—I barely got to my feet again when a rock ended my life permanently. And all I could think was "I hope Rochelle died in a worse way than this." LOL


	3. Nurse Ellis

His breaths were shallow, his lips drawn back into a slight, ever so slight, devilish grin. Blue orbs gazed out from underneath half-lidded eyes, chin lifted slightly. The young man leaned back into the bed, legs and arms moving against the sheets, body arching slightly. The red lace of his panties became a little more visible as he shifted his legs a little wider, hips straining against the white cloth skirt. Ellis smiled a little wider—he had the conman's full attention now. Every inch of him was being assaulted, roamed, undressed underneath that perfectly white nurse outfit that he had managed to successfully—and so fucking godly—fit into.

Ellis exhaled slowly, eyes closing, head pressing back into the sheets. His hands flexed and curled, wrists straining against the leather bonds chaining him to the headboard. He may or may not have done this himself... Fine, he totally had. Knowing full well that Nick would be back from a long day of gambling very soon. Every Saturday Nick was back by midnight. He was always horny—sometimes from a buzz of a good win of which their sex would become playful, giggly and much like real lovers. Other times the older man would be angry over a loss and this sex was nothing short of animalistic. Hair pulling, hip thrusting, nails and teeth and oh-so-fucking-wonderful outright savage fucking. From the way Nick had entered the bedroom, scowl his primary expression, his losses had been big.

Now... he must've been trying to figure out exactly what to do to Nurse!Ellis chained so obediently to the bed. The look on his face was one of surprise, delight and a hint of dark longing.

"Nic~olas," the name floated off the young mans tongue in his southern twang. His drew his bottom lip between his teeth, biting softly, body withering ever so slightly, feet brushing hard against the sheets making a soft noise that promoted a series of goosebumps across Nick's body. "Nicolas... come fuck me."

Nick's mouth curved into a smirk. He moved towards the bed, slowly, eyes wandering across the young man's body. His left knee hit the edge of the bed first, his right next as he slowly moved towards the mechanic. His hands—not quite effeminate, but incredibly soft trailed to Ellis' feet. Finger tips drew from the mans ankle, to the inside and slowly upward until reaching just below the skirt. Ellis let out a quiet moan as those hands wandered underneath, touching along the red lace, drawing outward to the young man's hips, fingers hooking the lace. He pulled downward, slightly. The bulge of Ellis' erection tightened against the lace, resisting so badly, even as Nick tugged a little harder.

"Mm... Nick..." Ellis sighed softly, hips lifting as the red lace slipped free. Nick pulled it down to Ellis' mid-thigh, fingers exploring every inch of the almost comically flowery design. Ellis was so full of surprises. So amazingly full of surprises. Nick's smirk had slipped away. He looked overly thoughtful—and this caused Ellis to frown. "Nick?"

"Shh..." Nick promptly slid from the bed, moving leisurely to the nearby dresser. Ellis watched him, blinking wide, mouth pursed into a pout. The conman opened one drawer slowly, reached in and pulled out a toy he had been meaning to fuck Ellis senseless with for some time now. It had more girth and length probably considered normal by human standards... but Nick wasn't even the slightest bit intimated or embarrassed. Pleasuring Ellis—be it his own cock pounding him or a fake one at his own hand made no difference. Ellis was being fucked—and as long as it was by him, he was fine by it. (Not that he wouldn't mind watching Ellis use it to fuck himself... but that was an entirely different manner...)

"Nick?" Ellis asked curiously.

The conman backed himself to the edge of the bed and sat, running his hand over the thick dildo, over the veins and notches. Marveling the detail. How it would make Ellis scream. He felt his own body swelling at the thought. Of those expected moans. Nick turned slightly, one hand coming to touch the white buttons of the nurse outfit, admiring every single one all the way down to Ellis' navel. Amused, he slipped his hand underneath it, touching every little inch of sensitive skin across the younger mans groin. Ellis squirmed under the touch. Nick smirked wider.

The conman shifted around the bed, straddling just below Ellis' knees. His free hand came to snake under that skirt again, this time brushing, stroking and fondling Ellis' cock. Ellis' breath hitched and quivered, hips thrusting under the touches.

Nick clicked his tongue mockingly, hands retreating from the other despite his whimpers for more. He found the zipper along Ellis' right hip and unzipped it. It revealed a perfectly toned hip, muscles that flexed and goosebumped under his touch. Nick would never grow tired of Ellis' reactions to his touches.

"I..." Nick said quietly, tugging down the skirt. "Can do whatever... the hell I want to you." Ellis shifted slightly at those words, chains straining against the movement, seemingly in eager agreement. The mechanic grinned in response. "Oh, you smile now," Nick purred.

One handed, Nick scooted the skirt down one side, then the other. Slowly the fabric tugged along those hips until reaching the more narrow part of the younger mans legs. It slide off easier now and Nick discarded it over the side of the bed, now twisting the panties still clinging so bravely to the mans thighs. The twisting forced Ellis' legs to squeeze a little closer together, knees lifting, heels digging into the bed.

Tongue running across the corner of his teeth, Nick removed those red panties too. He lifted them up, dangling them above Ellis' body. "These suit you," he said, voice low, almost guttural. He flicked them beside Ellis and those blue eyes followed them. Ellis blinked, before smiling slightly. His smile quickly became a grin as Nick scooted himself closer between Ellis' legs, bending the others knees and forcing his legs apart.

There wasn't anything nearby to make the entrance any easier on Ellis. But at this point, Nick hardly cared. He was in a sadistic mood. It was Ellis' fault though. Having chained himself to the bed and such. It only triggered the rush of adrenaline at seeing him like that; fueled by the thought of all the ways he could make Ellis' scream. Ultimately—he wouldn't hurt Ellis beyond repair... but, he wasn't exactly about to be gentle. I mean, he did just lose ten-grand.

He pressed the tip of the toy to Ellis' entrance and the mechanic's back arched, body tensing slightly. The conman teased against him in slow circles, almost in a tender manner—but it was more maddening to the very obviously aroused man than anything. Ellis kept his complaints behind a tightly bit lip, breaths shaking through his nose. Nick inserted the tip, twisting it as he pushed further in—nearly halfway before pulling back to the tip again. Ellis whined this time, hips thrusting eagerly at the toy, pushing it further into himself. Nick met his next thrust with one of his own, burying it nearly to the hilt—the force caused Ellis to gasp and that gasp became an almost whimper, almost moan, as the older man slid it in and out, hand working to twist the toy inside of him, drawing it back and ramming it inside him with enough force to cause Ellis' body to rock and sway with each thrust.

But if Ellis was in a lot of discomfort, it didn't seem obvious. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying the almost brutal thrusts. Between his outright moans and shaking breaths he was even managing to smile—grin, smirk almost. Like he was enjoying it far, far, far too much. And Nick knew his lovers body well. The flush overcoming Ellis' face and neck, the way his hips were now turning slightly to guide the dildo into his sweet spots was leading to what Nick would bet was going to be a very intense orgasm.

But, Nick, of course, couldn't let that happen. Not yet anyways. He withdrew the toy completely and the look Ellis gave him caused the conman to laugh outright.

"Ni...Nick...?" Ellis' legs shifted upward, knees capturing the conman between them as he tugged Nick's body closer, rocking his bare ass to Nick's clothed thighs. Ellis' squeezed more insistently, eyes nearly desperate for him to continue.

"Mm... Sorry, something wrong?" Both hands free now, Nick's hands came to Ellis' knees and in a comically delicate manner, forced them out of their vice-like grip. Ellis practically withered as the conman stood, stretched and adjusted his collar absently. Green eyes wandered over the other and Ellis' gave what he hoped was a seductive look, slight lip biting, raised chin, sultry eyes and all. But Nick simply tilted his head slightly, smiled and then promptly left the room.

Ellis' mouth dropped opened slightly, eyes wide. He knew Nick better.. the conman wouldn't leave him so hot and bothered—and chained the a bed for fucks sake – for long... would he? Ellis scooted closer to the headboard until he was able to get onto his elbows. The movement caused all kinds of sensations to overcome him. Most of them reminding him that his cock was so hard that it fucking hurt. As much as he wanted to turn on his side—or stomach if he could with the chains and rub himself off on the the bed to relieve at least i_some_/i of the ache... something told him to wait. Just a little longer... Nick wouldn't be gone for much longer...

It was approximately five minutes later that Nick returned. In one hand he held a candle—tall, dark green in color and already lit. In the other Nick was still shaking the match of its flame. He discarded the match on the dresser before moving to the end of the bed. He half frowned, noticing that Ellis had propped himself up near the head of the bed.

"Hm.. no." Nick grabbed the mechanic by the ankle and drug him back towards him. The restraints on Ellis' wrists tightened painfully as the slack disappeared, but Ellis simply grinned in response. Nick had a glint of something behind his eyes. There was the slightest of smirks curving his lips... but that glint behind those green orbs were something Ellis hadn't seen in a while. He remembered that look—that unashamed pleasure of breaking down, slaughtering and killing Infected all those years ago. He remembered that look. He remembered being a little intimated by it before... but in this circumstance, Ellis had to admit—his masochistic side was about wetting itself with glee. Those eyes promised some sort of twisted and painful pleasure.

The candle dripped across the bedding, leaving a trail of green dots. Then those dots found skin. Ellis' thigh was splattered with a disarray of green. The mechanic whimpered at the first few—there was definitely pain as the hot wax dripped across his thigh, but the pain wasn't overwhelming nor unwelcoming. In fact, his whimpers quickly turned into soft throaty gasps and moans.

The hot wax dripped further up Ellis' thigh, the drips sliding down the inside of his legs until hardening in perfect trails. Nick had at one point climbed back onto the bed, having shoved Ellis' legs apart again to settle himself comfortably between him. He held the flame away from Ellis' body as he unbuttoned each little button down the middle of that nurse jacket. Flesh was exposed. Beautiful, toned and perfectly delectable body lay at his fingertips now. Nick brushed away the jacket as much as he could, palm running across that smooth skin. The candle returned above Ellis. Nick made a line of hot wax down the middle of the mechanic's body, more splashing across his chest, over his nipples and to the other side of his chest. Ellis withered, legs lifting, thighs clasping against Nick's hips, breathy gasps and lustful eyes begging for the conman to fuck him into oblivion. Each new splash of pain was like another wave of ungodly pleasure that was sure to make him explode—and probably not in a good way.

Nick finally obliged to those pleading eyes. Although he had been entertained thoroughly by the debatably torturous teasing, he was painfully aroused now. His pants were tight against him now, Ellis insistent rocking of his body against his wasn't at all helping. These pants needed to go. And now.

Nick pushed Ellis legs aside and as quickly as he could removed the restricting clothes. He was pressed back up against Ellis in no more than fifteen seconds. Ellis grinned, one leg hooking around the gamblers back as he coaxed him even closer. Rough hands moved to the young mans hips and lifted them higher. He made no attempts at making their union any less painful. With some forceful thrusts, rocking and plenty of moans Nick buried himself into the other.

Each thrust he made was meant just as much to please Ellis as to simply force their bodies closer. All this touching he had done to Ellis and pleasuring him from a distance had suddenly brought an overwhelming urge to simply be close—to fuck him himself, to feel the heat rising off Ellis' body, the moisture collecting on his skin—to feel him from the inside and to make god damn certain Ellis was going to never forget this night.

Nick knew god damned well he wouldn't.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: For my Ellis, DirgeofDecember. Hearts~

I don't typically write full-on smut, but this was a special occasion. I hope I at least wrote it well enough -coughcoughcough-


	4. Game Over

In was in the darkness of that unlit room, only miles away from rescue that Ellis came to the sudden realization that this was no longer a game. That it had never been one. That he had been a fool to treat it as such. That he was ignorant. Stupid. And that this should be him lying there, bloodied and broken, breaths only little painful hiccups of life... not Nick. No, not him. He had never laughed at this whole thing like it was a game. He had been the smart one. Extra careful. Meticulous in his planning. Never a mistake or a false step. If anything, he was the one that deserved to go on.

There just weren't enough bandages. Not enough cloth to staunch the bleeding. Not nearly enough pills to dull the pain. No doctors hand nearby to stitch together the ribbon of flesh that raveled away to expose quivering organs.

Ellis almost couldn't comprehend. He moved forward slowly—barely registering the movement. White-faced, red-eyed, mouth moving wordlessly the young man knelt beside the gasping conman. Nick's body arched slightly as he felt the mechanic's hand on his shoulder. Green eyes rolled about, eyelids twitching with the effort to focus. His right hand lifted and the creases of his rings were pooled with blood. It formed trails now that joined the red on his palms. Ellis took that shaking hand with both of his, cradling it to his chest.

"Nick...?" It was hard to form words. His throat burned, clenched and choked with raw emotion. His eyes had to be betraying him. He had to be dreaming... This couldn't be real. It just couldn't be. "N-Nick... Nick?"

Nick was trembling badly now. The shock of such a sudden loss of blood seemed to numb him. His breaths were so shallow, his white suit so unimaginably red. What was left of the blue was stained dark—almost black. Nick's eyes focused, head turning. He half-smiled—which surprised Ellis—but it was half a grimace too. Blood stained his teeth pink, red still on his lips and between his teeth. A teardrop of blood escaped the corner of his curved lips. Ellis wept at the sight of it, lungs tightening, heart shuddering, fingers gripping Nick's hand all the tighter.

"Hey..." the conman's voice was low, barely audible between his shallow, wheezing breaths. Ellis moved closer in the effort to hear him better. "It's gonna be all... all right." Ellis' head dipped at the words, a sob wracking his body. He pressed his forehead to the older man's. He didn't dare speak. "You're..." –a breath, a wince, a blink that took too long– "You're gonna be all right. I promise..."

Another sob left the mechanic. Tears stung his eyes and stole his sight. All he could do was nod at those words even though all his body could do was shake. He should probably be mad at himself that it was Nick comforting him. Should be mad that he couldn't wipe away his tears and replace them with comforting words; _You're _going to be all right, Nick. Everything's going to be all right. _I_ promise—thick southern accent, charming grin and all. But he couldn't. All sense had abandoned him. All logic. All thought. He could do nothing except feel the overwhelming horror of knowing he was about to lose the conman.

"Ellis..." The conman's eyes closed, but his lips still moved, barely. "El..." He forced his eyes opened again. Ellis leaned back, only enough to let the older man know that he was listening. He did his best to hold back his sobs. "Regret nothing."

There was a whirlwind of images that assaulted Ellis' mind. An accidental brush of their hands all that time back in the mall. The quarrel of who was going to drive Jimmy Gibbs car, that time a boomer had stumbled him right into the conman's arms and sent them both tumbling over a railing in Whisper Oaks—both now soaked in the vomit. Nick grinning at him as they passed through the Tunnel of Love—teasing him but meaning no harm with his often harsh words. That night Ellis had curled up beside the other on that cold night in the swamp—how Nick had let him. The time Nick had pulled him into an unashamed kiss in the rain when Ellis hadn't shut his mouth. When they had gotten separated and when they had reunited in that same rain... The first time they made love—and the last time with everything in between. Each memory tore him from one emotion to another. The final memory was of him telling Nick to check the left apartments while he searched the right ones. The sound of a Hunter—the conman's surprised yell—the sound of gunfire...

After running across those rooms, too terrified to even draw his weapon, Ellis had stopped cold in the doorway. To the right laid the broken and crumpled Infected, still twitching in its death throe. An arms length away laid the conman—just as broken, white suit staining red. Ellis had never hated himself before that moment. Had never regretted his words so much. It should have been him. It should have been...

"Ellis... Promise me." Nick was so pale... His voice so distant, fingers already so fucking cold. "No regrets... promise me."

"I promise." He could hardly even choke out the words and so he nodded hard instead. He pressed those bloodied knuckles to his lips over and over, trying to grasp the time when his kisses hadn't been so desperate. But each kiss seemed to break him a little more inside.

And all though he had promised to never regret anything—the night would haunt him mercilessly until years later when he put a bullet in his head.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** So, my Ellis, DirgeofDecember, got me into playing Organ Trail. Unfortunately he told me how he ended up having to kill Nick because he kept getting sick and it was going to be impossible to keep him from Turning... and I got this sudden urge to write Nick!death.. I originally was going to have Ellis kill him... but, decided against it. This seemed a little more fitting. Dunno why.


	5. Last Stand

Sweetheart, I'm going to kill you.

Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but I will be the one to end you. It will be my hands, my perfectly perfect imperfections that will dismantle you. Unhinge you. Push you to the edge of your sanity. These same hands that drive you wild with fantasies and brush your cheeks so gently when you're sad. These hands that hold you close at night and find yours in the day. It will be my hands, guiltless and freely, that will kill you. Because, you see, sweetheart... As it turns out, I'm not immune. And I am changing...

So, tell me, do you think of me as much as I think of you? Your smile haunts me by day, your tears by night. Quietly, pressed together, hands clasping, touching, wanting to be so close in these final hours. But all I can hear is those sobs and although you are so close, it hurts beyond my comprehension. And so I press kisses to your face, over and over, trying to reassure something that cannot be reassured. All I can say is that a lifetime from now we'll meet again with new smiles and the same hearts. Because I believe, god do I believe, that this isn't the end of us.

But with each day the sickness grows a little stronger. When night falls I feel almost as though I am a part of the Infection. I feel tired. Like when I close my eyes I'll succumb to this endless nightmare. So I'm scared to sleep. Scared that if I close my eyes I'll lose myself. So instead, I just watch over you as you fight through your nightmares. And it has occurred to me, that I may just kill you.

But that's the sickness speaking. And I want to silence it while I still can.

So it's with one last lingering touch to your sleeping face, one last brush of those curls, one last kiss... that I end this before it begins.

Sweetheart, I don't want to be the one to kill you. I don't want it to be my hands to break you. I don't want it to be me. Every time I asked you to end this, you would cover my trembling lips, head shaking, tears and harsh words of denial to detour me. To silence me. Don't say it, you would demand, don't say it because it's not true. You're going to be all right. Everything will be fine.

But it's not. Right now, I feel this urge to plunge my fist through your chest, rip out that beating heart and devour it. Guess that's an extreme way to take your heart. But all bad puns aside, I'm confident I already have it. And I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry for taking your heart and not being able to keep it. Just know that I really did love you. I really do love you.

So, goodnight, Ellis. There will be a day when you can rest easy, close your eyes and your dreams will not be plagued with nightmares. There will be a day sometime soon when all of this will be a passing memory. You'll probably remember my face, maybe the way my voice sounded, or how I held you. You may remember the laughs we shared, how I kissed you and the way our hands fit so perfectly together. And that's all I want you to remember. Not this degrading body. These lifeless eyes. A face that has not seen sleep in days. Hands that shake, steps that falter... I want you to remember the way I loved you, not the way we cried in our last few days together.

When you wake, I'll be long gone. Dead in some field far away, a single bullet my last stand.

Thank you. For everything.

**A/N:** I had the first paragraph just sorta pop into my head and scribbled it down.. expanded it a little bit to at least a page 'cause I woulda felt dumb submitting only a tiny bit.

I hardly ever write first-person 'cause I feel I'm very bad at it. Feels weird sometimes. even though whenever I think of writing stories I always think of it in First POV o.O;


	6. Mad World

_All around me are familiar faces,  
>Worn out places, worn out faces.<br>Bright and early for the daily races.  
>Going nowhere, going no where.<em>

Movements like cancer—slow and awkward, waning strength leaving numbed and bruised hands. Flashes of light, each one taking a life. Still they came like a stuttering wave. Rising and falling like the tide.

They moved, expressionless, too numb to care. Instinct drowned them in stoicism. They were inhuman. They were soldiers without a cause. Survival drove them. Their cure was a bullet in the brain.

Flashes of light, smoke curling into the air, the smell of gunfire, the deafening soreness. These things made them feel safe. Nick was sure he would never be able to sleep again without the taste of sulphur on his lips. His aches lulled him to sleep, each bruise a reminder that he was still alive.

_Their tears are filling up their glasses,  
>No expression, no expression.<br>Hide my head I wanna drown my sorrows,  
>No tomorrow, no tomorrow.<em>

Finally a room, a place to bar up the walls and humanize themselves again. A place to feel again, to hold each other and cry. I'll hold your hands if you hold mine. I know it's bad out there, but we have each other. There's still the four of us. We still have us.

He rested his head and his body ached in protest. His back arched, eyes closed, lips parted to breathe in air that tasted tainted. But it tasted right. It tasted familiar. It tasted like tomorrow.

_And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad.  
>The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had.<br>I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take.  
>When people running circles it's a very, very...<br>Mad world, mad world._

He was startled awake, adrenaline thundering through his heart, heating his veins. He blinked enough times to remind himself he was still alive. The smile on his lips fell away. For a moment he thought the decision to give up had been decided for him. There had been pain for only a moment and then peace. Utter peace. He wept at the memory, calloused hands touching at his wet cheeks, sobs shaking him to the core. He had felt so much peace.

Ellis reached for him. A hand on his shoulder, one taking his. The young man pulled him into a sitting position, hands clasped, eyes meeting with uncertainty. More hands came, comforting his shoulders. The four closed together, hands clutching together, foreheads pressed together. There was comfort, but there was no peace.

__Children waiting for the day they feel good,  
>Happy birthday, happy birthday.<br>And I feel the way that every child should  
>Sit and listen, sit and listen.<em>_

This one looked in pain. Her entire right arm was missing, flesh peeled away, raw bone exposed. She moved with a limp, her little body rocking with each faltering step. Rasping breath left her, caught in her decaying mouth and lips. She still had the reminiscence of glitter. Her shoes lit up like fireworks with each step she took.

Nick lifted his pistol. His eyes closed.

It's a mad world.

_Went to school and I was very nervous.  
>No one knew me, no one knew me.<br>Hello teacher, tell me, what's my lesson?  
>Look right through me, look right through me.<em>

He could still remember it. Sunsets over white-smothered trees. Shimmering ice under a moonlit sky. Hot cocoa and smiles. It snowed every Christmas. He was always shoveling a path to his parents home. His father would stand proudly in the window, coffee in hand, nodding to himself as if to say _I raised him right_. Nick let him think that. Afterwards, mother would cover him blankets and kisses, hot cocoa pressed into his hands.

But here, there was no snow here, no father to make proud. No mother to smooth back his hair.

Just this endless mad, mad world.

__And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad  
>The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had.<br>I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take.  
>When people run in circles it's a very, very<br>Mad world, mad world, enlarging your world.  
>Mad world.<em>_

* * *

><p>AN: Lyrics are "Mad World" by Gary Jules. Last few nights I've been going to sleep listening to this song and I kept seeing the exact same scenes of the L4D2 crew over and over.. They demanded to be written with. It's been awhile...

Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think sulphur is a component of gunpowder (still?).

This is one of those times when I really wish I had 1) my tablet pen, god do I miss it and 2) an ability to use flash because I would love to make short video of these "memories". I may eventually draw a comic if/when I get a new pen... don't know if I have that talent/patience


End file.
